


Discovery

by Ol_Dirty_Sock



Category: Marilyn Manson (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bloodplay, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub, Humiliation, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multiple Partners, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 19:17:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4576569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ol_Dirty_Sock/pseuds/Ol_Dirty_Sock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian loves attention and can’t stand the thought of being just another face in the crowd. Trent plays on this to dominate him and let him be used. Gee Trent, that’s not very nice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Discovery

**Author's Note:**

> This is purely fictional.
> 
> Spooky Kids era. This is pretty self-indulgent. I just wanted something with Manson in a submissive role.

At times it still felt like a dream. Brian was an absolute nobody of an aspiring journalist, writing music reviews for his college’s lame newspaper, when Trent Fucking Reznor had taken an interest in him and his band after he’d scored an interview. At the moment, it was an uneasy dream. If he awoke, he didn’t know whether it would be to sticky sheets or a sour stomach. Maybe both. 

It felt slightly perverse even to him, being nestled here in the recording studio among a tangle of computers and piles of equipment, ready to sing in the house where once upon a time Sharon Tate was murdered by cultists sent by half his namesake. “It was just a nice location,” Trent had said with a shrug, claiming ignorance about the house’s history despite the dog-eared copy of _Helter Skelter_ lying on the coffee table in the other room.

Right now there were more pressing matters among the living. He was perched on Trent’s knee, shirtless and barefoot. Despite Brian being taller than Trent, the smaller man easily overpowered him in other ways. He’d cheated, put Brian on the spot and brought in a bunch of his other friends, none of whom Brian really knew. He recognized a couple of them as touring members of Nine Inch Nails, but the rest were new to him. He’d been told their names, but that info had fallen out of his ears already, shaken loose by anxiety. He didn’t have the kind of connections Trent did, and felt like a gawky teenager again, friendless and peering in from the wrong side of the fence.

Trent pinched him when he started to slouch as he got absorbed in his thoughts, and he twitched back upright. He was no stranger to exposing his body, scars and all, but it had always been on his own terms, to shock and tease an audience he wanted and craved, invited with incredulous word of mouth and cheap photocopied flyers strewn around town. This was different. It was a smaller crowd than he was used to, yet felt infinitely colder and more judgmental.

At least he didn’t have to do any tell-us-about-yourself speeches. Introductions were already well underway. “So I asked him to play guitar on this one track,” said Trent, hands resting on Brian’s sides, “and he said yes.” Trent’s lip curled up into a smirk. “Turns out he doesn’t really know how. I think he just wanted to be close to me.”

The rest of the room laughed. Brian tried not to shiver as his skin flushed.

Trent cupped Brian’s face in his hand and turned it towards his own. “I guess he’ll have to find some other way to make putting up with him worth it.”

He clenched up at that. He really had tried to learn to play, but despite offering to teach him, Jeordie wasn’t that helpful most of the time. And when it crossed Brian’s mind to ask, it usually coincided with Jeordie being drunk off his ass and in the mood for doing something far more stupid and hilarious than guitar lessons, and Brian would have no choice but to join in.

He wanted to defend himself, but when he opened his mouth he could only manage to flap it silently like a dying fish, complete with silver barb run through his lip, glinting in the light.

Trent looked Brian in the eye as he rand his hands along his body. “You want to be famous, don’t you, _Marilyn_?”

He did. He really, really did.

Despite the whiff of mockery from Trent, he nodded. “Yeah.”

“You’re lucky I’m the one who found you. Not everyone would be charmed by a face like that. You’re a plastic surgeon’s dream.”

Brian turned his head and looked at the floor. “Thanks,” he spat.

Trent tried to save the moment, sensing that even the circle of vultures thought he’d overstepped the line. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. “You’re beautiful. Just not in a way boring normal people would appreciate.” He stroked Brian’s shoulder and wrapped his other arm around his chest, nestling his head into the nape of the taller man’s neck. 

Brian drew in a sharp breath. He felt his nipples stiffen under Trent’s touch, and the tingling warmth between his legs grew with every hot breath fluttering against his skin.

Trent’s hand slipped under his waistband, and Brian moaned softly as his fingers brushed against his swelling cock.

A few nervous laughs drifted around the room. “He’s kind of a whore,” said Trent, smiling again, softer now. “Come on, let’s show everyone your talent.” 

Trent slid Brian’s pants down, revealing his lack of underwear. Brian gasped at the cold air hitting him after being smothered in leather all day, and Trent dug his hand into his hip in an attempt to stop his squirming. His fingers jabbed in hard enough to hurt, but Brian tried to keep his face still and his throat quiet. Trent’s other hand stroked his shaft, and he thrust his hips into it, almost throwing Trent off balance. 

And the wall crumbled. Trent shoved Brian to the floor and nudged him with his foot, then delivered a kick to his side when he failed to crawl into the middle quickly enough. Brian flinched and scrambled to his knees, planting himself in the eye of the storm. 

They laughed, not a reassuring “haha, we’ve all been there” sort of laugh, but a predatory cackle like a pack of hyenas closing in for the kill. That rotten little voice buried deep inside him was all too happy to sing along. _Worthless, ugly, stupid, sinner, nobody likes you, nobody likes you..._

Fuck that. When he was done here they’d _have_ to like him. He grabbed at the nearest leg, running his hand up the lean, wiry thigh, finding the man’s trousers were already partway undone. He yanked the zipper the rest of the way down. Brian vaguely recognized him, and the guy’s dark, tangled hairstyle reminded him a bit of Jeordie, and that helped it go a lot easier when he leaned in and flicked his tongue against the tip of his cock. This earned a grunt of approval, and Brian began running his tongue up and down the length of it, finally closing his lips around the head and plunging down. He shut his eyes and concentrated on the pillar of hot flesh in his mouth, his skin crackling as he heard appreciative noises echo around the room.

Brian’s other hand wandered towards his own crotch, but his forearm was met with the end of Trent’s boot, and he reluctantly jerked it away with a whining growl.

He bobbed his head, twisting and sucking until the cock throbbed against the roof of his mouth one last time. Brian wasn’t quite prepared and he gagged, doing his best to choke down the bitter flood. A small trickle escaped the corner of his mouth and the man snorted in amusement when he wiped it away. Brain glanced over at Trent out of the corner of his eye. An odd twinge of pride passed through him when he saw Trent’s approving grin.

Just as he caught his breath, another man, this one with a bleach-blond haircut and a completely unfamiliar face, beckoned at him. “Get that bony ass over here,” he said. 

Brian approached, and the blond manhandled him face-down over his lap, grabbing and pinning his arms behind him. A hard slap struck his ass, making him jerk his hips and cry out. Brian braced himself for more, and when another smack landed and Brian puffed out a sharp breath, the blond man jammed his fingers into his mouth. He sucked, as stinging heat radiated down his legs and dampness leaked onto his chin. The blond suddenly withdrew his hand, and Brian barely had time to acknowledge the fact another guy sitting next to him had shuffled over and slapped him on the jaw with his cock when he felt a wet finger tracing the edge of his asshole.

He tried to relax to the best of his ability. To his credit, the blond took his time and eased his finger in gently, stopping at the slightest tension. Brian bucked back against his hand, inviting in more.

Meanwhile, the other stranger was smearing his dick against Brian’s face, like some nasty parody of a lover’s caress, sliding across his lips and up the side of his nose and over his cheekbone. Brian finally stuck his tongue out and swirled it over the intrusion. It stiffened under the wet heat of his tongue, but any time he tried to take it in his mouth, the stranger pulled just out of reach.

He felt another finger slide in and explore, and hummed his approval while the other man continued to tease him, letting the head of his erection slip just past Brian’s lips and then moving away before he could take any semblance of control.

But Brian won out in the end. With one last dart of his tongue, the man groaned and came, barely grazing Brian’s cheek and unleashing most of it onto his shoulder. He seemed slightly crestfallen at missing his target, but collapsed back into his chair with a look of dazed contentment.

Brian, meanwhile, felt like his body was on fire. He was panting and shaking and his thundering heart threatened to break his ribs. He snapped and thrashed, fucking himself back on the blond’s fingers and frantically grinding against his leg. 

“Fuck...fuck...” he hissed. “Oh, _fuck_.” His cock jumped and he shuddered, releasing in hot pulses as his toes curled and he scrunched his eyes shut. 

After a moment, the man eased him to the floor, where he rocked back on his heels. He shook his aching arms, eager for normal sensation to return. His eyes stung and he felt his eyeliner trickle down his face. He told himself it was only sweat as he found his footing and unkinked his spine.

He stood, clammy and exposed, all eyes on him. He almost felt like he should take a bow. The magnificent Marilyn Manson, human jizzrag. You could’ve been anywhere tonight, but you chose to come here. Thank you, thank you. 

A flash of metal caught his peripheral vision, and he turned his head. Trent was fiddling with a small swiss-army type knife, twirling it around in his hand and making it catch the light. Time for the encore.

“No,” he said, glaring straight into Trent’s eyes before he could get any ideas. That door was for him to open, and no one else. Despite all that had happened, his body was still his own. Nobody else was allowed to leave any permanent reminders. He stretched his hand out to Trent, palm up. Trent fidgeted. Brian didn’t budge.

Trent continued to sit in silence. “But you can choose where,” Brian said, surrendering more than he ever had before. “Just this once.” 

Several of the others didn’t seem to know what was going on or what he was talking about, but after a few small ripples of uncomfortable whispers they all appeared to have been brought up to speed.

Brian jolted back when Trent feigned stabbing at him, then hovered the knife millimeters from his body, tracing in the air, down from his throat, over his ribs, finally stopping at his right hip and poking him with the tip of it in between the red finger marks he’d left earlier, so faint Brian could barely feel it.

Brian nodded. Trent huffed and dropped the knife on the floor when Brian reached out to take it.

He slid the tiny blade across the taut flesh of his hipbone, sucking at his teeth. It was duller than he’d assumed, and dragged unpleasantly, causing an ugly shiver underneath the familiar rush and release of opening his skin. But the bizarre alchemy he knew so well kicked in soon enough, and he smiled as all attention in the room was drawn to the oozing red X marking where Trent had gripped him. He tossed the knife aside and it clattered across the floor and into oblivion somewhere under a computer desk. He sucked the of blood from the tips of his fingers, and the familiar rusty tang washed through his mouth, rescuing him from the sour film of sweat and spunk clinging to his teeth.

The surge of adrenaline faded as quickly as it arrived. Brian heaved a sigh of frustration as he felt himself growing hard again despite the tiredness flooding his body. He threw himself to the floor, lying on his back and squinting in the harshness of the ceiling lights, mechanically tugging at himself, desperate to banish the heat spreading across his skin and quivering in his guts. He kept his bloodied fingers over his mouth, licking at them. Finally a strangled moan flew out of him as his hips thrust up and he spilled over his stomach and chest. His breath wavered as he curled onto his side, sweat trickling down his shaking limbs. 

He was faintly aware of the sound of muttering and footsteps departing, fading down the hall and into silence. The show was over. The lights went out. Brian felt a spot of blood drying and turning tacky under his side, and pointlessly wiped at the dark rivulets on his thigh. Some tasteless half-formed thought about the house having seen enough blood already scratched at the back of his skull. He took a deep breath and sat up. Trent was still there, watching through half-lidded eyes, his face calm and unreadable as an overcast sky.

Trent finally stirred and got up from his seat. Brian’s throat was like sandpaper and his body felt leaden and too heavy to budge. “Don’t just leave me here,” he choked out.

“I wouldn’t,” said Trent. He hooked himself under the crook of Brian’s arm and pulled him upright, leading him to the living room. A glass of lukewarm water met Brian’s mouth, and then he found himself wrapped in a comforter and shoved onto the couch. The heat and scratchiness of the thick polyester fabric against his skin didn’t even register. He collapsed into sleep, black and silent and mercifully dreamless.


End file.
